


RWBY: Rise of Roman

by Nevermourned



Category: RWBY
Genre: AKA Started before darkness consumed everything., AU, Conquest, F/M, New Format for me please excuse basic mistakes, Rating May Rise Depending on Story Direction, Started Pre Vol3 Second Half, Vale has the worst luck, Violence, War, also on fanfiction.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermourned/pseuds/Nevermourned
Summary: Roman Torchwick is one of the greatest criminal masterminds Remnant has ever seen, according to him at least. Despite this, he is second banana to Cinder Fall, working beneath her to accomplish her goals. However, when Cinder's grand plan is a little too... successful for her own good, Roman suddenly finds himself without a boss... and a world just ripe for the taking. (Canon Diverges after Yang's framing by Mercury.)





	1. Chapter 1: All According to Plan

(This is a not-for-profit fan made work. I do not own RWBY, that is owned by RoosterTeeth and likely by the family and friends of Monty Oum, may he rest in peace. I probably own my O.C., however I'd have to double-check copyright law to confirm that.  
  
Now, due to the very kind actions of one "Katzel" on Deviant Art, I have cover-art for my fanfiction. Katzel went to the trouble to create an entirely new picture with this fanfiction in mind and I am extremely flattered and impressed by the picture. Links to both Katzel's Deviant Art account and the specific picture, titled Roman and Neo 03 on Deviant Art, can be found on my profile. Thank you very much to Katzel for making such an awesome picture, and now, without further ado, let us proceed with the story.)  
  
________________________________________  
  
Roman Torchwick was agitated. Yes, yes that was the word for it. Agitated. Perhaps, even highly agitated. In fact if one was feeling bold, one might even go so far as to say that he was agitated enough to KLL THAT ARROGANT LITTLE BLACK HAIRED FIRE WITCH AND BOTH OF HER SIMPERING PET URCHIN BRATS! … Yeah… yeah he was at that third one by now.  
  
It wasn't that he hadn't expected to run into a bit of difficulty during this particularly stressful criminal enterprise. He had come to anticipate a certain degree of backlash and setback with every operation, and most of the ventures he'd overseen as of recent were especially high-risk. On top of that he'd run into those brats from Beacon… what three, four times by now? Did the first time with that little Red nuisance count? Whatever, the point was that meeting Red and her band of miscreants had become such a common occurrence that he wasn't exactly surprised when she and her pet pest squad had shown up to derail his latest scheme, almost literally. Annoyed, oh most certainly, but not surprised.  
He wasn't even all that upset when he got 'caught' by Cinder's street-rat fangirl and kick-happy psychopath. Apparently his getting captured by Atlas was also part of Cinder's "Grand Master Plan" the one she kept not telling him about to be specific, and she fully intended to break him out while he was still on General Ironwood's oh so very impressively oversized airship. In sum, this was all going according to her design despite the interruption from juvenile would-be do-gooders, and he had nothing to worry about.  
  
Well maybe he didn't have anything to worry about, but he had PLENTY to gripe about. For example, while being in a cell wasn't exactly a new experience for him this was a cell on a military ship, not his more typical residence in casa'la VPD holding. It was cramped like he could not BELIEVE, dark, and he was surrounded on all sides by hard stiff metal without even the suspiciously dirty and foul-smelling cot that he'd usually get. So whether this was an improvement or not was a grey area, but still, it was really uncomfortable, murder on his back, not to mention his finely sculpted tush. And they'd taken his HAT! Really!? Was that ENTIRELY necessary!? Honestly, he tells them to watch it and in response they 'take it away for observation?!' Oh ha ha! The imbeciles, did they have any idea how hard quality headwear was to come by?!  
  
But he could actually forgive both of those things… well, not forgive exactly, but put to the back of his mind for future vengeance at a convenient date and time which was much, much more satisfying. But, he could deal with the abhorrently cramped conditions and lack of his favorite bowler hat for a few days without swearing eternal vengeance and thinking about killing his boss, something that could and would only happen in the realm of thought. No, comfort and his love of fine dress were things he could do without for as long as necessary… What he couldn't go without for any goodly length of time, what he was far less likely to forgive, and what he was going to kill the soldiers outside his cell, General Ironwood, and think very strongly about killing Cinder's brats if not her over, was the simple fact that they'd TAKEN HIS CIGARS!  
  
Roman was an Ash Dust addict. For good or more likely ill, it was simply the truth. And when he did not get his fix of the highly addictive powerfully flavored substance, he was understandably PEEVED! And as a man with an already easily ignitable temper, the effects of additionally inflaming said temper could be truly terrifying, as anyone who had worked for Roman ever could attest to. And the soldiers of Atlas had DEFINITELY inflamed said temper. After all, those weren't just any cigars with the drug-like substance, oh no, they were his favored 'Pumpkin Blend', imported at great personal expense from Vacuo, those cigars being one of the only things worthwhile to come from that backwater excuse for a Kingdom. So, to recap, he was in a cramped cell, with a critical part of his well put together ensemble missing, and he did not have his very important, very specific blend of cigars… FOR DAYS… … He was ready to kill anyone and everyone who happened to enter into his train of thought, much less sight.  
  
Torchwick sighed, bringing his right hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, his left elbow resting on his left knee as he took a deep breath in, and then out slowly. These kinds of thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere, wouldn't even help him cope with his steadily mounting aggravation. The choice to not give him his drug was likely a deliberate move on the General's part to help wear him down, then Ironwood could present it as a bribe to obtain his cooperation. Of course Roman could only speculate on that, as he hadn't even seen Ironwood since he first spoke with him after his capture. A bit odd come to think of it. Roman guessed that setting up security for the Vytal Festival was stressful work, keeping his dear friendly General occupied like that instead of coming over for a visit…  
  
The incredibly stressed criminal mastermind gritted his teeth and growled low in his throat, opening the one eye he actually used to see with and glowering at the floor below, as his aggravation flared up again, and the hints of another in a long series of headaches began to form at the front of his skull.  
  
"I swear if Cinder doesn't break me out of here soon I'm going to strangle BOTH those pet brats of hers, see how smug she is then!" He growled out. And just after he did so, a-  
  
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!  
  
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!  
  
SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!  
  
Filled the ship. Piercing klaxons, practically drilling into his ears, accompanied by flashing deep red lights. He supposed that those were in case any of Atlas's finest combat ready soldiers happened to be hearing impaired, because no creature alive would be able to miss those INSUFFERABLY loud alarms. Moving his hands up to his ears to fight back against the painful blaring, Roman nonetheless smirked with a cocky and amused glint in his eye.  
  
"Well, speak of the she-devil and she shall appear." He spoke pleasantly, barely able to hear himself due to the noise but still feeling compelled to call Cinder a she-devil out loud. Despite this, he was in a good mood again and no longer thinking about slaughtering her pet psychopaths. After all, those accursed sirens most likely meant that she'd proceeded to her 'phase three' and was breaking onto the ship to get him out. The alarm's wail hailed his coming sweet release, and just the thought that he'd soon be out of this accursed cell and back with his favorite cigars, Melodic Cudgel, stylish hat, and smacking around some of the Atlas clods that separated him from his beloveds, was more than enough to fill him with glee…  
  
… … … … For about ten minutes. Then that feeling slowly but surely began to go away… It devolved into annoyance as the twenty minute mark of siren blaring but no Cinder was reached… and then turned into frustration at thirty… and into actual anger at forty. An HOUR later, the alarms CONTINUING To blare long after they started, Roman was practically grinding his teeth, eye wide with rage, hands pressed tightly over his ears.  
  
HOW MUCH LONGER WAS SHE GOING TO MAKE HIM WAIT!? HIS EARS COULD ONLY TAKE SO MUCH OF THIS TORTURE! He internally screamed and shouted, ranting in his head as his arms ached from being in the same position for an hour and a migraine from the alarm and drug deprivation both pounded in his skull. Fortunately for Roman fate, luck, or some greater power that had decided the criminal's torment had gone on long enough for now, saw the alarms stop shortly after the hour mark had passed. The flashing red lights, which Roman was sure were some sort of seizure hazard and/or a manifestation of Ironwood's true internal sadism, ceased with the alarms, and all was quiet.  
  
At least quiet to Roman who couldn't very well hear after all of that noise. His ears were still ringing, curse this Atlas engineering, probably put a speaker right in his cell or something so it'd sound extra loud. Muttering to himself, Roman moved his right gloved hand up to his right ear and started to dig into it with his gloved pinkie, mainly to get the ringing out of his ears. Still, he was back to smirking. After all, now that the alarms were off Cinder had probably taken the bridge, and she and her team were moving through the ship, on her way to come get him so she could put him to use.  
  
But as time passed again, only five minutes this time, with the cessation of the alarms and once again no Cinder or annoying Cinder brats coming to his cell, he started to worry. His brow furrowed and his hands gripped his knees as the ringing in his ears faded naturally, his good eye staring at the door through the dark. … Had… had Cinder FAILED to take the ship? No, no she couldn't have. Cinder was one of the strongest fighters in the world. Better than him, unfortunately, better than her brats, certainly, better than Beacon's brats, definitely, and even better than Neo who Roman KNEW was as deadly as she was psychotic. There was no way she'd lose to Atlas's pathetic soldiers and their General… would she?  
  
Roman bit his bottom lip. Doubt began to worm its way into his heart, and as it began to take hold and fester within his chest the sound of 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' could be heard, faintly, outside of Roman's cell. Footsteps, of someone coming for him most likely. But they weren't the 'clink-clink-clink' of Cinder's glass heels. Nor were they the 'thud-thud-thud' of Atlas soldiers in their marching boots. Roman didn't know WHO was making that sound, and immediately began to think of all the possible culprits. Red and her rather uninteresting footwear? That cat-girl, Blake was it? No, she was far too quiet for those footsteps. It could be that brat Emerald, not Mercury though his steps would be heavier with his weapon boots. Someone else that Roman hadn't met yet?  
Roman didn't know. So far nothing had progressed as he'd thought it would, so as the 'tap' sound came closer to his door he breathed in and out a little faster, sweat starting to form on his skin as he looked to the door. The sound of a 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep', as numbers to his cell code started to get punched in only made him more anxious… But like heck he was going to show it.  
  
Roman straightened up, rolled his shoulders back, cracked his head side to side, and narrowed his eye at the door, calming and slowing his breath, making sure he was as loose as possible. As the last of the numbers got punched in, and accepted with a longer 'BEEEP', Roman smirked and let his eye take a cocky bend, sure to display confidence, even if he didn't feel it. Depending on who opened that door Roman was either in for a very good day, or a very bad one. And he intended to be ready for either, never letting friend or foe see him sweat.  
  
So poised, ready, and with his body as relaxed as he could make it, he watched as the door 'slid' open and light flooded into his room. He didn't count on the transition from dark to light affecting him that much, especially with the recent flashing red, so probably lost a few of his style points when he blinked rapidly and had to furrow his brow to get his eye used to the illumination. But after a few moments he was able to see the figure beyond the door clearly, able to fully make out the individual's features and-  
  
"… … … I'm sorry… WHO are you?" Asked Roman almost incredulously as his eyebrow raised.  
  
In front of him was a lean young man, maybe twenty years old, with very light skin, bright white hair, a single black streak running through said hair from the middle to the bangs above his right eyebrow, and slightly dulled white eyes. He was wearing a finely tailored tuxedo suit, black, with a black dress shirt underneath, and a bright white tie. There were white gloves on his hands and black dress shoes on his feet, dancing shoes actually now that Roman got a better look at them, with white soles. On top of his head was a black fedora, very much like the ones worn by Junior's men, though with a white band circling it instead of a red. Actually, as Roman came to think of it, aside from the color changes and the lack of sunglasses, this interloper dressed very much like one of the thugs he'd hired from Junior's Club. Only… well, sleeker, wearing the clothes better, and holding himself with a good deal more poise than they had.  
  
The young man for his part was standing in the doorway, his left arm just beyond it, out of Roman's sight, right hand down at his side, and his body standing straight and calm as he looked down to Roman. His stark gazers moved up and down, looking over the figure of Vale's resident criminal mastermind, seeming to evaluate him. After a moment, this unknown figure cocked his head to the right slightly, bringing his eyes up to meet Roman's singular visible orb, before speaking.  
  
"Susie Diamonds. Or Susan if you'd prefer. I like the color pink, cute boys, and long walks on the beach beneath the pale light of the broken moon." He responded simply, his voice pleasant enough to listen to with its natural cadence, rather level at the moment… though the DRIPPING and obvious sarcasm somewhat colored it.  
  
"Who are YOU?" He asked, stressing the last word as his right eyebrow raised slightly, and his entire body seemed to 'tilt' to the right for a moment, revealing his left arm before the elbow, the whole of the forearm and hand still hidden behind. Roman's one good eye had narrowed into a glare at the young man's free embrace of sarcasm. But more importantly, moved to his partially revealed left arm, looking at it for a moment as he changed his focus… This sarcastic brat was hiding something, maybe a gun. He might have been here to off him. But then again, if Roman was an assassin and unsure of his target, he'd just kill everyone he came across in the cells for thoroughness sake. Still, he might just be trying to confirm identity before prepping to kill… Roman needed to be ready in case this kid was here to end his dashing and utterly magnificent existence.  
  
However Roman didn't show his thought process, didn't show that he even considered the possibility that this black-suited kid could be a threat to him. Instead he gave a cocky grin and leaned back, raising his hands from his knees palm up with a, 'really' look to his eye and proceeded to vocalize the look.  
  
"Really kid? Those peepers of yours blind? Cause I've been on the top of the VPD wanted list for months now, my face's been plastered all over town! If you haven't seen this devilish mug, you just haven't been paying attention." He spoke, smirking wider as he leaned forward, his hands moving to his knees again. The male at the door raised his right eyebrow a little further, but didn't seem to react otherwise.  
  
"I've been living under a rock actually. It's very uncomfortable, I don't recommend it." He stated dryly, keeping his expression unchanging.  
  
"Now at the risk of sounding repetitive, please… who are you?" He asked, a little more politely this time. Roman blinked… then let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eye and leaning back.  
  
"Fine fine, the name's Roman Torchwick. That ring a bell? Of course it does. Well sorry, I don't do autographs. Though if you get me out of this cell, I'll consider making an exception." He spoke, raising his right hand up and pointing back with his thumb to the cell in question.  
  
"Hm. Guess it's my lucky day then." Stated the young man, still dry as ever, moving his left arm from behind the door and… somehow managing to keep his tilt. But that was less important to Roman than what his left gloved hand had been holding, namely, Melodic Cudgel with Roman's prized bowler hat placed neatly on top of the handle.  
  
Roman actually blinked, slightly surprised as the young man offered it forward. While offering the criminal mastermind his standard apparel and weapon, the newcomer also moved his right hand up to his own fedora and plucked it from his head, before bringing it down to his chest and placing it over his heart.  
  
"Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Alabaster Flatly. And I have been hired by one Miss Neopolitan to see to your escape. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Torchwick, and I am at your service." He spoke, bowing his head forward slightly, sarcasm fully replaced with manners. Roman blinked again, then shook his head a bit and smirked, for real this time, standing up and reaching with his right hand to take his beloved weapon cane from this Alabaster's hand.  
  
"Well it's about time!" He spoke with jubilation, most of his vexation now replaced with a mixture of relief and pleasure as he took his bowler hat from the top of the Melodic Cudgel and placed it atop his head, standing up to get out as Alabaster 'leaned' back, and stepped away, letting Roman extricate himself from the cell. As Roman exited the cramped conditions, he almost immediately stood straight and leaned back, moving his left hand to his spine as he raised his right high up, pointing his cane to the ceiling as he let out an audible-  
  
"Aaahhh, ahhh, aaaah." of relief, stretching his muscles.  
  
"Ahhhhhh yes! In the name of DUST that feels good…" he muttered, lowering his arms and shaking them out slightly, then turning his head side to side as he loosened up his neck to, just savoring his sudden ability to move in a space more than a few feet wide.  
  
"Agh, mm, there we go, oh that hits the spot, the only thing that could make this better is-" Started Roman, before stopping as he turned his head to see Alabaster holding out a cigar… one of his SPECIAL, pumpkin blend cigars, in his right hand, bowing forward slightly to present it to the crime lord. Roman blinked, then slowly moved his Melodic Cudgel into his left hand, and reached with his right to take the cigar from Alabaster's fingers. With the physical contact assuring him that it was real, he moved it up to his lips and placed it between.  
  
As he did so Alabaster stepped forward, brought his left hand around, and calmly held up Roman's lighter, moving his thumb to 'FLICK' it open and lit, letting the orange flame come up to touch the end of Roman's cigar. Roman closed his eye as the fire lit the end of his drug of choice, letting him taste the flavor, savor the Ash as it began to drift into his being and out from the end, helping to empower his Aura… Once the cigar was lit, Alabaster calmly 'FLICK'-ed it closed, and then offered it, palm-up to Roman. It didn't take Roman a moment to snatch his lighter out of Alabaster's hand, and just hold it for a moment, staring at his treasured lighter… before looking back up to Alabaster.  
  
"… Well, as first impressions go, this is the best one I've had in a while now." He spoke, nodding his ascent as he moved the lighter down into his pockets, sucking on the end of his cigar and rolling it to the left side of his mouth, taking in its flavor… OH that was good. Alabaster smirked a bit at the positive reception, then stepped back, before letting his face go neutral.  
  
"I'm glad you think so. Now pardon my presumption, however it would be best to exit this area and make our way to the bridge." He stated simply starting to turn to walk away before Roman quickly THREW his right hand up, palm out in a stop pattern, and rapidly spoke-  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa there, hold your horses there Al." Causing Alabaster's right eye to 'twitch' slightly at the word 'Al' as Roman moved his right hand back down, turning to face this suited character with his cane in his left hand, leaning on it as he looked up at his deliverer.  
  
"Look kid, I'm grateful for the early release and all, but I'm not exactly going anywhere until someone tells me what the HECK is going on!? Where's Cinder? Or where's Neo for that matter, why'd she need to hire you? And where are the guards, actually, not seeing many bodies here whitey want to explain how you got to me so easily?" He asked, gesturing about with his right hand to indicate the lack of Atlas soldiers, conscious or otherwise.  
  
Alabaster raised his right eyebrow slightly as Roman tied up his questioning spiel.  
  
"I have no idea who Cinder is." He stated succinctly, causing Roman to blink in surprise and then furrow his own brows in return… Neo… hired someone without Cinder's go ahead? What the f-  
  
"As for Miss Neopolitan, she didn't give me her reasoning. She simple gave me my objective, promised payment, and transported me onto the ship. Afterwards she left, and I do not know where or why… She doesn't exactly talk much." Spoke Alabaster, still succinctly and politely, before turning his gaze over towards the large window at the end of the cell hallway.  
  
"However, as to the matter of the soldiers, or lack thereof…" he spoke, before letting the sentence peter off and raising his right hand gesture, palm up, towards the window. Roman looked at it with a raised eyebrow, then back to him, then back to the window with a-  
  
"Ugh." Of annoyance, and turned to start grumpily walking over towards the window, putting a good deal of weight on his cane since his legs were still sore. Why couldn't the man just answer a simple question instead of being all cryptic and making him walk for the answer?! Was it that hard to say 'hey, they all decided to go get drunk at the local bar' or 'they took a holiday for the Vytal festival' or something? As Roman internally grumbled and got closer to the glass, eye glaring towards the window to see what the pale brat had motioned for him to see, his pace slowed… and then slowed some more… and finally he stopped altogether, as he came to be standing in front of the window to the outside world, staring out, with his mouth slightly opened and eye wide.  
  
Vale was on fire. Smoke rose up in plumes. A line of giant, elephant-like Goliath Grimm walked through the city, roaring and trumpeting as they pounded the works of man beneath their feet. Colored explosions of dust, ice magic and fire, wind and lightning, shown as tiny bursting specks of light throughout the city as a battle raged far below the airship, black dots swarming wherever the smoke didn't block, new fires breaking out all over the city…  
  
"They're a bit busy at the moment." Finished Alabaster, walking up calmly to stand slightly over Roman's right shoulder, looking down to the scene below as well. As he finished, a pair of Atlesian gunships flew into sight some distance away from the window, weapons pointed down and firing fast, cylindrical barrels rotating as they hurled flaring tracer-lined bullets onto the Grimm below. A moment later, a-  
  
"SSSCCCRRRAAAAWWWWW!" was heard, as a Giant Nevermore SMASHED through them both at once, sending the gunships hurtling out of the sky, torn apart, one bursting into flames on the way down as the Giant Nevermore rose up and out of sight, victorious in its pursuit of destruction, and searching for more prey to annihilate.  
  
"Welcome to the new world Mister Torchwick. I hope it suits your tastes." Continued Alabaster calmly, seemingly unphased by the events playing out in front of him. Roman Torchwick's jaw widened slightly. His cigar fell out and hit the floor, end snuffing out as the ash spilled on the ground, and an entire Kingdom died below…


	2. Chapter 2: Exposition and Explanation

(I actually began writing this a good deal before I saw past Season 3 episode 6. Not a surprise I think, considering how much later I published this chapter after the first. The reason why I stopped on that episode for a bit, besides just them waiting for a while to continue the series if I remember correctly, was… well, feels. Lots of them… Episode 7 didn't exactly help much in that regard… and the less said of 9 the better and… well, everything that came after that to… let's face it, it's been a pretty dark season.  
  
Ahem… regardless, while I didn't get everything right, and this story will continue in what is now officially an alternate universe where numerous details have changed from the canon events to go more along the lines of my original intetnion for the story, I believe that I guessed enough of what occurred to have the right to say this. I freaking CALLED IT. Also, some of Roman's thoughts and feelings have been changed, back to that changing some canon details thing. Considering what happens with him though that's… probably for the best…  
  
Well… now with that little bit of bragging and explanation out of the way, here's an overdue chapter. Hope you enjoy!)  
  
________________________________________  
  
Roman Torchwick was silent. If the nearby Alabaster had known him better he would have realized that this was an event just as rare as the ending of the world, and would have taken out his scroll to record Roman's lack of commentary for posterity. Instead the well-dressed hireling simply waited calmly, standing slightly back and over Roman's right shoulder, and watched the crime lord witness Vale burn.  
  
"…"  
  
"…"  
  
"… What…" Sounded Roman quietly. Alabaster raised his right eyebrow in question, as Roman continued to look down at the violent scene below, fires and explosions visible even from this distance, to say nothing of the massive Grimm Goliaths.  
  
"What. The. FUUUUUUCK!?" Roman practically screamed. Very. Loudly.  
  
Alabaster flinched, his poise breaking a bit as the obviously peeved Roman whirled around to face him, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, and fingers giving his Melodic Cudgel a death grip that usually meant he was about to beat someone to death with it.  
  
"What. Happened!? Details, NOW!" He barked, and Alabaster straightened back up, brought his right hand up to his mouth, and coughed into a gloved fist politely before responding.  
  
"'Ahem'. Well, Mister Torchwick, my knowledge of the situation comes entirely from Miss Neopolitan's briefing." He spoke, before his eyes moved to Roman's lips and noticed the lack of cigar. With a calm motion he stepped forward, left hand behind his back, and moved his right hand into his left suit-pocket, calmly pulling out another one of Roman's cigars, held delicately between his fingers.  
  
"And it was rather rushed, as well as presented in… TEXTS." Spoke Alabaster, putting all of his disdain into that last word, along with an eye twitch, as he offered the cigar forward to Roman. Who, still breathing heavily with gritted teeth, SNATCHED the cigar out of Alabaster's hand with his left, and moved it to his lips, biting harshly on the end of the cigar as his pale-skinned rescuer continued.  
  
"However, judging from what I could make out between all the smiley-faces, 'Lols', and general butchering of anything even remotely approaching a language, it appears that this whole 'oh Dust why have you forsaken us' scenario came about during the latter stages of the Vytal festival tournament."  
  
Roman's eyes snapped up at that.  
  
"Vytal festival?" He asked, moving his left hand into his pocket and roughly pulling out his lighter.  
  
"Isn't that still weeks away?" He muttered in agitated confusion, bringing his lighter up in front of the cigar and flicking it open, as his thumb went to the wheel and started 'flick'-ing it, trying to get a light. But his movements were aggressive, angered by what he'd just seen, and the lighter wasn't igniting.  
  
"I know only what Miss Neopolitan conveyed to me Mister Torchwick. My own sense of time is unfortunately not reliable in this matter." Spoke Alabaster, his eyes moving to the lighter. Calmly, he offered his left hand, palm up. Roman's eyes narrowed as he looked to the palm… and then with a grunt, grudgingly pushed the lighter into it. Alabaster calmly righted the lighter in his hand, lifted it back up to the tip of the cigar, and with one calm 'FLICK' brought the lighter to light, letting the flame ignite the end of Roman's cigar. Roman, once again, closed his eyes and took a deep puff of the addictive substance, letting it try and calm his nerves.  
  
"But that part was fairly clear. The Vytal festival was nearing its end with the tournament in the singles round." Continued the suited male as he flicked the lighter closed, and offered it palm up once more to Roman, who opened his eyes… sighed sullenly, and took it with his left hand, moving it down into his pockets once more as he looked back up to Alabaster.  
  
"Alright alright I got it, sense of time is off, probably Atlas's fault, kill Ironwood later. Now what happened?" Asked Roman, obviously still agitated and perhaps even grumpy, as Alabaster straightened back up, hands behind his back.  
  
"Well, as stated, it was in the singles round, which was apparently rigged to pair two very specific individuals against each other."  
  
________________________________________  
  
The crowds were murmuring. They were fidgeting. They were nervous. And that was after they'd had an hour or so to calm down. The surprising, shocking, even disturbing actions of Yang Xiao Long earlier had unnerved them. And not just the crowds in the coliseum proper, but practically every person in Vale, Vacuo, Atlas, and Mistral combined. The only ones who didn't know the name Yang Xiao Long and associate it with a needlessly cruel and obviously sadistic young girl were those few who didn't care to watch the tournament, and they'd know soon enough too, as news stations picked up the story and it got spread by word of mouth. Not good. Not good at all.  
  
An hour recession had been called to give them time to recover, assure the populace that the matter was being handled, and then an announcement had been made across all of Remnant to reveal that Yang was indeed in custody and not going to be competing in the tournament any longer. That the situation was under investigation and being resolved. A whole lot of words that were ultimately said just to try and get people to calm down. Because negativity, fear, anger, hatred, would all bring the Grimm. And that one cruel event, broadcast live and in crystal clear definition, had spread every one of them across the entirety of Remnant.  
  
So the people who knew best were trying to ignore what had just happened and get things back on track. Namely, Peter Port and Bartholomew Oobleck. Peter, back in his role as announcer besides Oobleck, cleared his throat, and began to speak.  
  
"Welcome back to the Vytal Festival Tournament! While recent events have somewhat marred this event, it would be a travesty, nay, a desecration to the very spirit of the festival, to let that stop us from proceeding with the finals round!" Spoke Peter, before Oobleck gave a quick nod.  
  
"Quite right Peter! The show must go on, as they say, and we do have an exciting show still ahead of us!" Spoke the teacher rapidly as was his way. But despite their words, both teachers were just as perturbed as the audience. Perhaps even more so. Yang Xia Long was a student to both of them and this behavior, the obvious and easy cruelty they'd seen from her in breaking Mercury's leg, was nothing like anything they'd encountered in her personality before. Oobleck in particular had seen her fight, had a peak into her more intimate thoughts, and knew from the very bottom of his heart that something just wasn't right. There was something very different between the Yang who'd broken Mercury's leg and the one he'd led at Mountain Glenn.  
  
But Oobleck and Peter couldn't dwell on that right now. They had to keep the festival going and raise the spirits of the people back up. As educated Hunters, they knew the consequences of letting negative emotion fester, so they put their own aside to rid the people of theirs.  
  
"So! Let's see who our next exciting match-up is, and get this tournament back on track!" Continued Oobleck, as the screens spun, and came up with two names and faces.  
  
"Ah! Pyrrha Nikos, one of the finest warriors in Remnant, representing Beacon and the Kingdom of Vale, but with PLENTY of support back home in Mistral I am sure!" Spoke Peter of the first image, some mumblings of ascent and cheers actually starting back up in the audience. After all, they didn't want to diss Pyrrha just because they were still perturbed at what happened earlier, and so her star power brought more, and more of the audience to start cheering her on, building back some of the positive energy they'd possessed before.  
  
Despite that though, as the cameras focused on Pyrrha Nikos, she didn't look too happy. Her right arm was rubbing her left as she stood with her head down, a practically despondent expression on her face. She was barely even there, deaf to the crowds as they began cheering her on. Not a particularly photogenic choice for the next up in the matches.  
  
"And Penny Polendina!" Continued Oobleck.  
  
"A surprise powerhouse from Atlas! Having come up virtually unknown through the tournament showing great skill and ability throughout the rounds, she is bound to give Miss Nikos quite the fight!" Spoke the Doctor, as the other camera focused on Penny. Who was frowning, head tilted down, and hands clenched in front of her. Again, with her mind on anything but the fight about to happen, and not particularly photogenic.  
  
"Would all other fighters please leave the arena!" Spoke Peter, trying to completely ignore that both girls looked like they were having absolutely horrible days and wanted to be anywhere but there.  
  
Other fighters began to leave the ring as bade, leaving Pyrrha and Penny both on the platform, in a spotlight that they very much did not want to be in. And who could blame them?  
  
Pyrrha felt like she was on the verge of breaking down. Yang, one of her best friends had done… something horrible. Something that she just couldn't understand. And that was on top of the major life-changing, possibly Remnant changing decision that she had to make. The one that could go anywhere from being a complete dud, to eating someone else's soul, to fusing HER soul with someone else, to DESTROYING her soul and leaving her body in a stranger's hands! It was a decision that could be more dangerous than any fight she had been in since she was born and she had to make it SOON.  
  
And Penny… Penny was sad. Very sad. Because Ruby was sad. Very very sad. Penny wanted to fix Ruby's sadness. But she didn't know how. She wanted to help her friend. But there was nothing in her systems, nothing in her experiences, nothing in her at all, that knew how to fix a broken heart. Ruby's heart wasn't like Penny's, she couldn't just take it out and put a better one in, or weld it back. It wasn't even the actual organ causing her distress but something in her mind and the heart was just a metaphor used to describe it and… And Penny just felt so helpless. Her friend, the one she valued so much, was hurting very badly, and she couldn't help her.  
  
Pyrrha looked over to her opponent, as the fighters walked away, and saw that Penny was looking about as bad as she was. Pyrrha, a pang of empathy moving through her, actually managed a bit of a smile, nervous and awkward, as she looked to the girl.  
  
"Penny. Ruby's friend, right?" She asked, and the created girl looked back up to Pyrrha's eyes, blinking in surprise for a moment, then giving a very soft smile in return.  
  
"Yes. And you are Ruby's friend to. It is very nice to meet you Pyrrha." Spoke Penny, honest, but subdued. The Mistrali champion let her smile increase just a bit, before continuing on.  
  
"It is good to meet you as well. Do you… know how Ruby is doing?" She asked, struggling to get the words out, afraid of the answer. Penny blinked at the querry, and looked down, quiet for a moment.  
  
"Ruby… is crying." Spoke Penny simply, before looking back up to her concerned opponent.  
  
"And I don't think that she can stop." The created girl said, and although she couldn't cry herself, she… felt like doing it. She really did.  
  
Pyrrha gulped at that, a deep lump in her throat and a dull pain in her gut that just hadn't gone away since she was first posed with the choice. As Penny finished speaking, the combatants finished leaving, and the stage began to move. Rock music played, lights came on, the center stage floated and all eyes went to Pyrrha and Penny. Pyrrha sighed a bit, then turned to face Penny with a smile, finally moving her right hand from her left arm.  
  
"Penny, I know that things are… 'hard' right now. However let us try and put that aside for the moment. People want to see a fight with passion and strength, and… I believe that they need to. Perhaps we need such a fight as well." She spoke, before calmly and quickly pulling her shield Akouo to her left hand and raising her weapon Milo in sword form, gripping it tightly in her right hand.  
  
"Please fight me with your best Penny! I will do the same for you. And then, whoever wins, we can try and help our friends together as well! What do you say?" Finished Pyrrha, finding some of her former passion and energy as the Atlas girl blinked, and then let her cheeks twitch up into a smile.  
  
"I think that is a wonderful idea. Yes. A most splendid idea!" Spoke Penny, before turning her body to fully face Pyrrha, bringing her left hand up, open-palmed, and moving her right hand in a closed fist to that palm. Penny bowed, respectfully, keeping her eyes up on Pyrrha.  
  
"I look forward to our match. Let us try to have a wonderful time!" She spoke, beaming, and Pyrrha smiled a little more herself. For just a bit, they could have an honest bout, just focusing on the fight, and deal with everything else afterwards. Just a brief respite from the tragedy that had come from nowhere to engulf them.  
  
"3! 2! 1!"  
  
________________________________________  
  
"And in the middle of that round some sort of signal went off across Vale."  
  
________________________________________  
  
"AAAGGGGHHHH!" Before Peter had the opportunity to yell 'fight', Penny screamed and fell to her knees, hands flying up to her head, clenching at it as she squeezed her eyes shut and continued to scream.  
"Penny! What's wrong!?" Asked Pyrrha quickly, concern evident in her voice as she lowered her shield, eyes glued to the robot girl as she began to scream, something she shared in common with the audience. And so focused they were on Penny, that they didn't even notice as the Atlesian Knights, dispersed across the coliseum around its entrances and at over-watch positions, suddenly 'twitched'.  
  
A moment passed, and then there was a 'flicker' of green across the glass face of every Knight in the coliseum. And in that flicker was the symbol of a chess piece, a black queen, something that only the most observant of individuals could have possibly had the chance to notice. And then as one, the Knights turned, lifted their rifles towards the audience members closest to them and-  
  
BANG!  
  
BANG!  
  
BANG!-BANG!  
  
BANG!  
  
The rifles that the Knights had been equipped with were truly spectacular things. They were semi-automatic, but with the reflexes of the Knights they could fire at a pace approaching automatic fire. Filled with Steel Dust rounds and charged with a Lightning Dust core, the gun actually charged its rounds as it fired them, a mixture of Atlas technology and Dust magic ensuring a seamless and smooth firing rate with minimum kickback, combined with rounds that would punch right through the thick skin and hides of the Grimm, and even their exoskeletal armor at a short enough distance.  
  
As a result, the rounds fired into the crowd were capable of punching through the unshielded civilian occupants at a high velocity with a good durability that would send the round through multiple chairs and the bodies sitting in them before it was stopped. Many rounds went absolutely impressive distances through fleshy obstructions, before the blood-covered metal bounced off the shield between the arena proper and the audience.  
  
It took the audience a moment realize what was happening. The screaming from Penny was very loud, and it increased in pitch and intensity as she kept at it, while the weapons the Knights used were actually fairly quiet compared to most firearms. But when entire rows started slumping over, neat circular holes with smoke rising from them in their torsos and heads, blood seeping out into their clothing, people began to notice. People began to panic.  
  
A faunus girl with short brown hair, deer horns, and a lovely brown shirt with blue jeans, got a round straight through the forehead, sending her tumbling back over the seated black-suited human with a hole through the heart that she'd been trying to climb over. An elderly male with thin white hair and a large brown coat, fell to a pair of shots, one through the spine and another through the heart, sending him tumbling down onto the floor next to his grandson, a brown-haired child, hand still grasping his grandfather's. A blue shirt-wearing male with his scroll out, dialling the police, received three consecutive rounds as he tried to run down the stairs looking for an exit, sending him tumbling down with limbs flailing and blood pooling from the wounds. And the Knights fired on. With no emotion, no care, and assigning no values to the people they killed. Just numbers ticking down on their screens.  
  
The sound was horrendous. The screaming, the crying, the pleading, and the noise of the shots themselves. It was a cacophony that far superseded Penny's own, and drew Pyrrha's gaze away from the pained robot girl. Pyrrha's eyes turned up to the seats, to the stands, to see muzzle flashes consistent and steady, highly accurate fire finding marks with every shot, the Knights mowing down the occupants of the coliseum.  
  
"No…" Pyrrha spoke, but the speech was little more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide, her breath didn't seem to be entering her lungs, and when she should have leapt into action instead she felt… crushed. Utterly crushed underneath the weight of the world.  
  
"Oh Dust please no." She spoke again, and all the darkness that had already been afflicting her seemed to come back, full-swing, slamming into her heart. Her mind yelled, SCREAMED at her to do something, to put her warrior reflexes to action, to leap into combat as she was trained to do, BORN to do. And yet, she found herself able to do little more than make that plea, to the powers that governed the world, that plea for what she saw to just not be the case… But it was the case. And if someone didn't stop it, it would continue to be the case. So her muscles twitched, her eyes hardened, and her hands finally moved to action.  
  
Sending her shield back onto her back Pyrrha quickly flipped Milo up into rifle form and raised it to her shoulder, eye moving to the sight and immediately snapping a pair of shots off towards the first Knight she saw… and both shots hit the shield that surrounded the arena, bouncing off before striking the Knights. Pyrrha gritted her teeth and lowered her weapon, mind immediately running through the multiple options and choices to reach a point of engagement with the enemy.  
  
So focused Pyrrha was on this task, that she almost didn't notice when Penny stopped screaming. Slowly, with her head lowered, the robot girl began to get to her feet, Pyrrha's head turning to the nearby movement to watch the mechanical female stand.  
  
"Penny?" Pyrrha asked, slow, cautious, with dread practically flavoring her every word, and as Penny raised her eyes up she-  
  
________________________________________  
  
"Wait wait wait wait wait. WHAT?! They just started unloading on people? Just like that!? No threats, no demands, no 'We are now in control'? They just started killing!?" Asked Roman with his left brow raised in disbelief. Alabaster nodded calmly in response.  
  
"All over Vale apparently. The signal activated a virus that 'md dem all killy & fny lol'." Spoke Alabaster, squeezing his eyes shut in pain for a moment at the memory of Neo's communication preferences, before shaking his head a bit and opening his eyes again.  
  
"In any event, it seems that the coliseum was just where the largest number of Knights were around the largest number of unarmed civilians. Though there were Atlas soldiers there as well, and Academy Students, so they were probably dealt with quickly enough. Still, the initial surprise attack would likely have killed a lar-"  
  
"ALRIGHT! I got it!" Barked Roman, obviously agitated, interrupting the suited male and lowering his own gaze to the floor, visible eye visibly narrowed.  
  
"Cinder what in the name of Dust were you THINKING!?" Asked Roman, a clear note of disbelief and anger in his voice. Alabaster for his part, tilted his head over towards the right, looking at the criminal mastermind with his right eyebrow raised.  
  
"This… bothers you?" He asked, a slight tone of surprise to his voice.  
  
"YES!" Barked Roman, looking up at Alabaster with a raging glare.  
  
"This, none of this, makes ANY DAMN SENSE! Vale is ON FIRE! I knew people were going to die, a lot of people sure, definitely all the academy brats and most of the military, but this is insane! I thought she wanted to CONQUER Vale, not destroy it, make some kind of damn profit from it, destroy the old order, replace it with her tyranny or something! How is she going to benefit from this!? You can't rule a kingdom tyrannically or otherwise if all the people in it are dead!" He shouted, causing Alabaster to blink once calmly, before speaking in a calm, measured voice.  
  
"Apparently this 'Cinder' wasn't telling you everything." He stated, plain as could be. Roman blinked, then gritted his teeth as a sudden FLASH of pain went through his head, focused in on the right side, causing him to close his eyes and try to shake it off. Alabaster furrowed his own brows at the action, as the pain left Roman as quick as it had come, and the crime lord opened his eyes again and looked up to Alabaster… then let out a 'RAGH!' of aggravation, turned to face down the hall, and started MARCHING forward, still clenching his cane tight enough to choke the life out of someone.  
  
"COME ON! Let's get to that Dust damned bridge! And tell me what else happened!" Barked Roman as Alabaster briefly stood still, closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath, and opened his eyes… then widened them before turning on his heels and dashing straight towards Roman's back.  
  
Several things happened then, quickly and consecutively. First, Alabaster 'Clicked' his right heel back against his left mid-run. Then, within his fine footwear, a hidden cache of raw powdered Wind Dust began to empty itself into thin, flexible tubes running along the insides of both shoe's soles. Following that, as Alabaster's quick step brought him right up behind Roman, who was just starting to turn his head at the noise, the hireling's aura kicked in to activate the dust and-  
  
FWOOSH!  
  
A burst of air blasted Alabaster forward, straight into Roman's back, Alabaster's right arm wrapping around Roman's waist and, in-part, cane to keep them pinned. As Roman started flying forward, his unpinned hat naturally flew back from his head, only to be grabbed by Alabaster's free left arm with speed that would be considered truly amazing to those without the benefit of aura, and held as they both went blasting down the hall on a jet of air… And then, the gigantic armor-piercing quills of a Giant Nevermore smashed through the window.  
  
The crime lord's one visible eye widened in surprise as he accelerated down the hallway, but widened even more as a gigantic Nevermore quill flew faster than both him and his hireling, and pierced through the metal wall of the airship with a SCHINNNK! A groan of metal reaching Roman's ears faster than the multiple 'SCHINK' 'SCHINK' 'SCHINK' of the other quills, and the actual 'SHATTER'-ing sound of the quills striking through in the first place.  
  
Roman and Alabaster hit the floor at the end of the hall, the wind dissipating, before the unmistakable-  
  
SSSCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWW!  
  
Of a Giant Nevermore sounded, and only then, as Alabaster rolled off Roman's back and to the crime lord's left, could Roman actually look back, over his right shoulder, to see the gigantic piercing quills, lining the length of the hall behind them… and the obviously peeved Giant Nevermore right outside the window. It glared at them both with red eyes, heavy wings flapping, an ancient anger in its eyes, all the more enraged since its prey had temporarily escaped it, and a bloody desire to see them dead.  
Alabaster, with narrowed eyes back to the avian predator, locked his right arm around Roman's left. He then proceeded to move quickly forward, pulling the criminal mastermind up in the same movement. Roman had the sense of mind and adrenaline to move as well, using his cane to push-off, and dash with his second-time rescuer around the end right corner of the hall, out of the Nevermore's sight. Another-  
  
SSSCCRRRRAAAAAAWWWW!  
  
Sounded at this quick escape, then the audible FLAPS of the Nevemore, vibrating down the halls from the open window, signaled its departure from in front of the window to elsewhere over the airship… This didn't mean that Roman and Alabaster were safe by any means, just that the Nevermore couldn't kill them before destroying the airship. It had bought them some, but exactly how much would depend largely on the integrity of the airship's hull, and how much more damage the Atlesian vessel could sustain before it dropped out of the sky. Considering that the quills had gone right through the hall's metal floor and walls, Roman was a little less than optimistic. Though, at the moment, he did have a slightly more pressing concern.  
  
"Oh wonderful. Like this thing needed any more dust." Spoke Roman with gritted teeth, straightening up and bringing his left hand up to wipe at his right coat shoulder, angrily brushing away some dust and broken glass from the heavy window shattering along with some dirt from the floor. He really, REALLY hated it when people, or things, messed up his fine coat. Didn't anyone understand just how much this thing COST! Tasteless degenerates…  
  
With a shake of his head Roman sighed, and brought his right hand up with Melodic Cudgel to 'tap' against the side of his head, ever-so-slightly, as he closed his visible eye and spoke in an agitated voice.  
  
"Annnnnnnnnnnd the Nevermore's fixated on us now, which means it will be focused on the ship, which means that it's not going to stop until it rips this thing apart with us inside!" exposited Roman, who was clearly having a day, as Alabaster took a calming breath of his own, and turned to face the crime lord.  
  
"Yes, probably. Though this is a military-grade airship at least, and one of the Atlas gunships outside may attack and take its attention. Because we're obviously that lucky, and not at all targets for karmic retribution." Stated Alabaster simply, smilingly wryly for a moment as he brought Roman's hat up in both hands and calmly 'placed' it on the crime lord's head.  
  
Slowly, cautiously, as though it was a vitally important process, Alabaster subtly adjusted the hat on Roman's head, making sure it was positioned perfectly on top of the crime lord's cranium. Roman, who had the sense to open his eyes and lower his cane when a hat touched his head, just stared at the focused Alabaster as he undertook this delicate process… And when Alabaster brought his hands from the hat, precise positioning accomplished, and folded them behind his back Roman still stared at him… before shaking his head and raising his hands and shoulders in a 'fine, whatever' gesture, before letting them drop and looking back to Alabaster with a narrowed eye.  
  
"Well kiddo, I don't know about you but I'm not going to wait around and take my chances that the big bird will go 'oh shiny' with something else! This ship's got guns, let's go use them!" Countered Roman, before turning and beginning to practically stomp his way down the hallways. Alabaster took only a moment to flinch at being called 'kiddo' before following Roman.  
  
"That would probably be the best course of action. Oh, and the White Fang."  
  
"What?" Asked Roman, turning his gaze over the right shoulder towards Alabaster with an eyebrow raised at the apparent non-sequitur as the hireling followed in his footsteps.  
  
"The White Fang happened next."  
  
________________________________________  
  
VWOOSH!  
  
A rocket streamed through the sky, leaving a grey smoke trail behind it as it SMASHED into the first floor of a shop called 'From Dust to Dawn'. And naturally, where a rocket smashed, it exploded.  
  
BOOOOOM!  
  
The shop erupted in flames, scattering debris everywhere and exploding again with lightning, and again with even more fire, and again with gusts of wind WHIPPING the fire onto nearby buildings as the Dust in the shop exploded along with it.  
As the shop and all its wares shared the explosion with all its neighbors below, Bullheads flew overhead. The first rocket heralded the arrival of another, and another, as grey streams snaked through the sky, emerging from cylindrical eight-barrel steel-grey launchers fixed beneath the noses of numerous oncoming bullheads. Bullheads with the red three claw marks and growling feline face of the White Fang on their sides.  
  
While nowhere near as impressive as the Atlesian airfleet, the pure number of incoming bullheads marked with the symbol of the White Fang couldn't help but inspire some awe. Not to mention terror, as the missile-equipped models pumped streaming rocket after rocket into the city below. Explosions boomed and fires burst where their missiles hit, but that was only a taste of what was to come. A fact made clear by the presence of prototype version Atlesian Paladins, held by quadruple sets of steel grey magnetic clamps affixed to the Bullhead underbellies, keeping the heavy metal troops steady, the symbol of the White Fang painted in bloody red on the Paladin gun-arms.  
  
These Paladin-carrying Bullheads, armed with more typical machine-guns below the nose, moved down closer towards the city as the rest of the White Fang ships launched their assault across the city. They brought themselves down close to open spaces, parks, parking lots, and market squares, as well as other clear areas in the city below, before hovering several feet over these spaces and 'CLINK' releasing the magnetic clamps. Paladins hit the ground below, slumped and deactivated, but a few moments after contact, each would 'SHOOOM' as they powered up, and raise their weapon-arms, straightening up and starting to scan the environment as their pilots activated the metal monstrosities.  
  
Even as the stolen Paladins began to fan out, other Bullheads stopped close to the Paladin drop-points and opened their doors. White Fang soldiers leapt out, armed with automatic rifles, swords, pistol and sword, and other combat combinations. The only thing that seemed uniform amongst them was the equipment, ability, and desire to cause harm. As the soldiers began to scatter, moving to secure landing points and open areas for more soldiers to deploy within, a particular set of feet hit the ground with a 'THUD', impact striking up dust as the White Fang warrior hit the ground.  
  
His mask was white, denoting his higher rank, and shaped to resemble the growling face of an Ursa, complete with vicious red eyes of hardened glass instead of the more typical thin-slits, and red lines streaking down from the eyes, painted on. His hair and upper head was covered by a black hood, with a more or less standard White Fang uniform beneath, though armless to show off thick, heavy muscles, and with a thick grey plate fastened over his chest and back with black straps, armor over the uniform, stopping just a bit above the standard black sash about his waist and the red White Fang claws and snarling cat painted on the back.  
  
That wasn't where the armor stopped either, with his knees protected by grey steel knee-guards, tied back behind with black straps, and there were thick black combat boots upon his feet, guarded with steel-grey plates seemingly built into the leather, separated to allow for flexibility, but with an especially thick armored steel toe. There were then steel gauntlets over his hands, thick and hard, with sharpened points for the fingers, allowing for practical claws. But that was nothing compared to what was mounted on his wrists… namely, grenade launchers.  
  
While not as large as a typical two-handed affair, the launchers were still of far larger size than meant to be supported by a wrist and forearm. Their ammunition was held in a revolving circular drum, again steel grey, with eight tubes within, each capped by a red-circled cylinder, seemingly inserted into the tube. The rotating feeds wrapped around his wrists, immovable cylinder in the center keeping the weapons fastened on the wrist, and leaving the revolving cylinders to cycle up to slot in for their barrel, wide and tall, going out from the wrist to about seven inches past the knuckles, with a little red glass 'dot' visible just below the barrel on each wrist.  
  
This heavy-set White Fang soldier stood, at 6ft11 with bulging muscles and red eyes lighting up, turning his head to look across the marketplace he'd dropped into. Even as he looked, another heavy 'Thud' sounded to his right, and then another 'Thud' to his left, as two more white fang soldiers, dressed in the same get-up and armed with the same weaponry, landed, and then proceeded to stand. The one to his left was only 6ft9, and the one to his right was a 6ft8 woman, but both of them were about as ripped as him. He ignored his compatriots and continued to look around… until he spotted what looked like a face pressed up against the window of a two-story house, the face of a long-haired brown woman in her thirties, with wide blue eyes, filled with fear.  
  
The first of the ursa-masked White Fang soldiers to land let out a 'snort' then raised his left arm up, fist closed and barrel pointed straight at the house, just a bit above the second story window, and then-  
  
'Shoomp'  
  
A simple, almost comical sound came as a small red and orange sphere launched from the barrel, slow enough that it could be tracked with the eye, arched across the length of the market square towards the house. The face quickly drew back as the woman inside did in fright, and the sphere 'smashed' through the window, as unimpressively as a thrown brick, making a small hole and sprinkling glass on the inside as it went in… …  
  
BOOOOOOOOM!  
  
And the unofficial celebration of 'Explode Vale Day' continued as a brilliant red explosion literally blew the roof off other house, along with its entire second floor, and a good portion of it's first. Debris fell from the sky, along with a severed arm charred down to the blackened bone, as the White Fang grenadier smirked. A 'BEEP-Clink' sounded as the revolving drum for the grenade rotated, another cylinder making its way into the barrel slot as the other left, still present in the slot, but now with its red outlining dulled, waiting to recharge…  
  
With that bit of business done the trio of heavy armed and armored White Fang warriors moved forward, heavy footsteps sounding in their wake as the White Fang secured the market place, for what was surely going to be a day Remnant would remember forever… And even as they did so, more White Fang Bullheads flew overhead, separating into large groups, some more dispersing out across the city, others headed for the Atlesian airfleet, and still others headed towards Beacon… And death continued on, as explosives rained across the city…  
________________________________________  
  
"So did anyone decide NOT to blow everything up today, or did everyone up and go pyromaniac while I was out?" Asked Roman as he and Alabaster continued their walk, now a significant distance away from the breakout point.  
  
"Again I-"  
  
"Only know what Neo told you right, do you have any idea how annoying it is hearing that over and over? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical." Sounded Roman with gritted teeth, running now, though at more of a jog pace, as Alabaster kept up easily.  
  
"Ugh, and it doesn't take a genius, which I am obviously, to figure out that all this chaos and destruction and fear would bring the Grimm. In massive numbers. Even the Alphas would-" Roman started, before the airship 'SHOOK' from an impact, causing him to stop and have to balance himself, Alabaster stopping when Roman did though seeming to only 'tilt' to the right slightly instead of stumbling with the shaking, before it ended and Roman stood straight again, biting hard on the end of his cigar.  
  
"-would get involved, with the Kingdom defenses so distracted. The baby hunter wannabes at Beacon won't be used to those, much less Vale's idiot police." He finished, before his visible eye scanned down the hall and saw something that made him smirk.  
  
"Ah, there we go, the bridge'll be down that hallway." Stated Roman as he resumed jogging, Alabaster nodding and following right behind him.  
  
"So what then, Atlas's hacked toys teamed up with the White Fang to torch the city while spouting off some nonsense about 'faunus rights' and 'punishing humanity'?" Asked Roman, still fishing for information from what was becoming an annoyingly dry well, but still the best he had access to. Alabaster, for his part, suppressed a sigh and simply responded as he jogged behind Roman who was much, MUCH slower than he'd like, considering that there was still a war going on around them outside the airship.  
  
"Actually, I believe that their interactions were far less… civil."  
  
"Okay Al there's a time and place for fancy language and this ain't it, just tell me what happened!" barked Roman, to which Alabaster, who believed that fancy language belonged just about everywhere, narrowed his eyes.  
  
"They fucked each other up their respective assholes. Mister Torchwick."  
  
"… Allllllrighty then. You can go back to fancy speak."  
  
"Thank you Mister Torchwick."  
  
________________________________________  
  
BANG!-BANG!-BANG!  
  
The shots of the Atlesian Knights weren't meant to pierce through aura per-se, but in taking down human hostiles such an ability was necessary. And a flying slug of energized metal was a flying slug of energized metal. The first shot knocked down the White Fang grunt's aura into the red, and the next two pierced through his heart and left lung, respectively.  
  
The grunt fell back with a cough of blood, his body hitting the street as his sword loosened from his hand, and the blood drained from his body. A female compatriot moved up next to him with her left hand grabbing his right arm, and starting to try and drag him back as she lifted her automatic rifle in one hand and-  
  
BAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAP!  
  
Fired it off into the approaching column of Knights… The Knights marched down the Vale street shoulder to shoulder, in perfect gunline formation. The rifles of the front section were leveled and firing steadily at the retreating White Fang soldiers. The automatic fire from the rifle strafed up diagonally across one Knight's chest, 'PING'-ing as they bounced off, leaving small dents but not piercing through, and 'CRACKED' the face-plate of the Knight immediately to its left at the end of it's wild-firing arch. The one who's chest had been strafed leveraged its own rifle back towards the offending White Fang soldier, and calmly unloaded on her.  
  
A pair of 'BANGS' and she was down with a hole in her chest, dead-centered and severing her spine on the way out. Further back other White Fang grunts were either retreating down the street, or taking cover around alley-corners and behind crates and boxes, shooting pistols and rifles over said boxes and around said corners, or, for the melee armed ones that hadn't died on the initial charge, simply hid and waited for the approaching column to come closer.  
  
A White Fang heavy with gritted teeth and grenade launchers ready walked down the street from the opposite end, towards the advancing column. A pair of shots STRUCK his armored chest, which between his aura and the armor actually stopped them entirely. He stopped next to a rifle-armed White Fang grunt who was firing down towards the Knights and backtracking down the street as he did so, possibly trying to maneuver back behind the heavy. The heavy snorted, as the grunt was struck by a three-shot burst in the chest and fell back onto the street with blood splattering out, and raised his right arm.  
  
'Shoomp' sounded the grenade launcher as the red and orange ball of energy arched through the air, into the center of the Knight column… and then went BOOOOOOM! Exploding with fire and force, sending the Knights flying every-which way from the center of the column, scattering them into parts and bits… And as the smoke cleared, a few Knights, missing legs or arms or even their heads, continued to walk down the street, leaving their destroyed compatriots behind as what few still had arms raised their rifles and resumed firing. The Heavy growled as he began to walk towards them himself, flexing his clawed fingers, as the remaining White Fang grunts came out from behind alleyway corners with guns and blades, and began to advance, charging or firing as they moved to take back the length of the street. Just one of many they were called upon to conquer that day.  
  
________________________________________  
  
"Oh well, let's just go ahead and add that to the list of things that don't make a blasted ounce of sense about this little apocalypse! Really, Cinder turned the robots on the White Fang WHILE they were invading the Kingdom!? … Actually, the more I hear about this, the more I think Cinder wasn't involved at all… something went wrong. Very wrong." Thought Roman out loud, as the two moved down the hallway towards the door to the bridge.  
  
"You would know Mister Torchwick. Now, if there is any place on the ship that will still be guarded, it's the bridge. We should be ready for a fight." Alabaster spoke as they got to the door, his left hand moving up into his suit and over towards his right inner-suit pocket as he spoke.  
  
"Oh believe me after all the aggravating asinine things I've had to hear about in, what, ten-fifteen minutes, I am MORE than ready to give my gracious hosts a warm explosive-based THANK YOU for my stay here!" Spoke Roman as they neared the door, flipping his cane around in his right hand and 'HITTING' the door release with his cane hook to open it up.  
  
"GUESS WHO you Atlas-" He started as the door slid open with a sci-fi style hiss, and then stopped. Stopped as he was surprised for what had to be the fifth or sixth time today. Alabaster tilted himself left to look past Roman's shoulder, through the doorway, and onto the bridge.  
  
"Oh… well. That's unexpected." Commented the hireling dryly as his eyes were greeted with bodies. The dead body of an Atlas soldier with blue armor highlights lying on the floor a foot from the door with a pistol still clutched in his right hand. The equally dead body of a small female officer with blonde hair, upper-body slumped over the console to the immediate right with a hole in her chest, head turned away from the door and arms hanging limply by her sides, knees on the floor keeping her body in position. And the corpse of another soldier with yellow highlights who was slumped up against the side of the front-left console, just visible from the doorway, with his own yellow-edged sword rammed through his throat. And then the body of a woman… a small, petite woman with multi-colored hair, unique eyes, and an open umbrella, twirling lightly over her shoulder… a woman who was sitting casual as could be on little center outcropping of the console pair directly across from Roman and Alabaster at the doorway. And unlike all the other bodies in the room, hers was very much alive.  
  
"Neo…" Spoke Roman, slowly lowering his cane and actually speaking softly for once.  
  
Neopolitan smirked, then grinned, then 'hopped' off the console, collapsing her umbrella in the same motion, turned it upside-down and back in her left hand as she 'skipped' over the dead soldier in the middle of the floor, pranced up to Roman, threw her arms around him, laid her head right against his chest, and proceeded to give Vale's foremost criminal mastermind, a hug. And Roman, after a single blink of surprise, actually smiled, brought his cane down to press to the ground, and moved his left hand around to Neo's back, pulling her closer as he lowered his head down to her hair, and hugged her close.  
  
"You always did get me the best presents." Spoke Roman still softly, as Neo tightened her hug around him, and the crime lord opened his visible eye again, this time with a gleeful, predatory gleam in it.  
  
"And now, heheheh… now we can have OUR fun."


End file.
